


Purgatory

by AloeAloe



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Slash, Spoilers from Death Masks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AloeAloe/pseuds/AloeAloe
Summary: “But I knew that, somewhere in his past, there was something he would do anything to undo, would spill blood to erase.  It was from that dark place he drew his resolve, his strength.”  Storm Front, Jim ButcherTrapped in a desperate situation, Harry is forced to ask none other than Gentleman Johnny Marcone for help.In exchange, Marcone asks Harry to achieve the impossible.Complete.





	1. The Sickness

“If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.” H.W. Longfellow

* * *

“The White Council are after me, Marcone. I’m dead if you don’t help.”

John Marcone, kingpin of Chicago’s criminal underworld, smiled at me — a mirthless upturning of his lips.“Then by all means, Mr Dresden,” he said, “die.”

Hendricks made a gurgling sound that assumed was gorilla for laughter.I bit back a snarl — I didn’t have _time_ to exchange trash talk with Marcone. 

We were in a back room of Saint Mary of the Angels.I’d chosen the location for two reasons: this was one of the last places the Council would come calling and, when they finally did, the church’s near impenetrable threshold would keep me as safe as the strongest of wards. 

Thankfully, Father Forthill had disappeared into a side room the moment Marcone and his retinue has arrived.I was grateful for the man’s tact.The already volatile combination of a wizard, crime lord and his hired muscle could only be made worse by the addition of a catholic priest.Even without Father Forthill, the atmosphere was still tense.The abysmal weather reflected the mood well; rain lashed against the room’s small window and showed no sign of letting up.The darkness of the evening outside seemed to seep into the very corners of the room.

“Trust me,” I said, trying to maintain my customary facade of bravado.“Death almost looks tempting compared with asking you for help, but I can’t kick the bucket just yet. 

Marcone brushed an imaginary speck of lint from the cuff of his business suit.“Oh?And why is that?”

I clenched my fists, hoping that would stop him from noticing my hands were shaking.My friends, my city, my home: all would be swallowed up by the darkness if I was too busy being dead to do anything about it.

“I have unfinished business.”I couldn’t keep my tone steady: there was just too much at stake. 

There was something in my voice that Marcone’s attention.He stopped feigning disinterest and surveyed me coolly with eyes that were the colour of faded dollar bills.He took in the bloodstains on my ragged shirt, the absence of my blasting rod and exhausted, haggard appearance.I didn’t shrink under his gaze but met it head on.The memory of our first soul gaze rose within me, unbidden, and I brushed it to one side.Being reminded that the guy had the heart of a predator while I was trying to do business was an unhelpful distraction. 

“I see,” he said before turning to his two bodyguards.“Mister Hendricks, Miss Gard, please leave us for a moment.” 

Hendricks looked less than pleased with the request — he was undoubtedly unhappy about leaving his employer alone with the ‘big bad wizard’ — but Gard placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and steered him from the room.Cujo glared at me balefully right up until he left.I responded with a cheery little wave.

The door shut after them and I was alone with Marcone. 

Now that I came to think of it, being alone with the man was a pretty rare occurrence.When we normally met, Marcone was very rarely without his two goons and — to be perfectly honest — it felt sort of weird without them.Gods, I never thought I’d miss the delightful company of none other than Cujo and Blondie, but it did raise an important question.

What did Marcone want to say to me that he needed to be alone for?

He got straight to it.“Alright, Dresden.I’ll defend you — but for a price.”

I sighed.Making deals with the ‘bad guys’, Mab, Leah and Marcone are to name just a few, always left me with a bad taste in my mouth.Yeah, I’m not so naive as to think that the divide between the virtuous and the immoral is as distinct as black and white, but that doesn’t mean I have to like the shades of grey in between.

“I guessed as much,” I said, bitterness seeping into my voice.“What do you want?”

His voice was clear over the incessant pounding of the rain.“There’s a girl I need you to help,” he said.“You should remember her.”

Ambiguous much?I had to restrain the urge to scoff at him.“_Right._A girl.Can’t you be any more specific?I assume that you’re not talking about one of your Executive Priority chicks here.” 

He flashed a glare at me and I was taken aback by its ferocity.“Her name is Amanda,” he said, tone curt and every syllable cold and crisp.

‘_Amanda?_’ I thought, nonplussed.‘_Who on earth is Amanda?_’ 

Suddenly, my memory whirred into action.The image of a hospital room appeared in my mind’s eye, a sudden, powerful reflection as clear as if I had seen it only minutes ago rather than years.I remembered smooth white sheets, a teddy bear propped against a pillow, faded letters spelling out ‘Jane Doe’ on the door.I remembered the girl in that room, a skeletally thin figure who had been asleep for at least fifteen years, probably longer.Amanda: the girl who would never wake up.

I also remembered Marcone.Marcone sat by the bed, head bowed and praying desperately to somehow undo the damage done so many years ago. 

He meant _that_ girl._Stars and stones..._ Marcone’s uncharacteristic sensitivity on the subject suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

“I remember,” I said, trying my best to keep my tone neutral.“The kid that got caught in the crossfire.She’s still in a coma, right?” 

“Correct.In exchange for my support, Dresden, I want you to save her.” 

I blinked.“You want me to wake her up?”

“In exchange for my assistance, yes.”

Now, this..._This_ was not what I had expected.I’d fully anticipated Marcone trying to strong-arm me into some sketchy contract that reduced me to little more than a guard dog, making a trio with Hendricks and Gard.But this?This was uncertain ground; I needed to tread carefully.

I considered my position.If the freaking Turin Shroud had failed to help her, I highly doubted that I could.On the other hand, without Marcone to vouch for me to the White Council, I was a dead man walking.I couldn’t afford to say no.

But, no matter how dire the situation, I wasn’t going to lie to the man.As much as I despised the guy, I wasn’t going to peddle him some snake oil when it came to a girl’s life.Moreover, I couldn’t deny that Marcone had always been truthful with me.Arrogant, and condescending, yes, but never deceitful.And I intended on returning that favour in kind.

I held my hands out in front of me, palm up.“Look, Marcone, I can try to help her, but I can’t guarantee anything.Haven’t you had Blondie try to help her?” 

“Miss Gard’s talents were of no use in this instance, no.” 

I breathed out heavily.“It’ll probably be the same for me. I specialise in combat magic — setting fire to things, blowing stuff up — this type of healing is something I’ve never even attempted before.”

The sound of the rain pounded down around us.Marcone turned to face me, cold determination clear on his face.

“Then you are going to learn, Dresden.”

* * *

Time passed and, as always, I was pulled back from the brink of total destruction by a hair’s breadth.Marcone, acting as Baron of Chicago, was able to keep the White Council off my back long enough for me to clear my name.All charges against me were dropped and, once again, I had escaped with my life — my life, and a debt. 

As soon as my acquittal was formalised, spurred on by the wish not to be beholden to Johnny Marcone, I went to go and see the sleeping girl.

* * *

“Look Marcone, I’m sorry, but magic isn’t going to help here.”

We were in a private room the hospital provided for grieving families.I hated it. I hated the ‘homey’ fake plants right down to the jumble of leaflets on bereavement.In my opinion, no one could ever feel fully at ease in a hospital; it would take a lot more than calm pastel shades and a cushion or two to make this place welcoming.Anyway, I suppose we could have just talked in Amanda’s room.‘_It wouldn’t have made any difference_,’ I thought bitterly.

Johnny Marcone observed me cooly and said nothing. 

I sighed and flopped down onto the hideous sofa with its hideous cushions, rubbing my temples distractedly._Gods, I had a headache..._ Marcone, on the other hand, remained standing.Rather than wearing his customary bazillion dollar suit, he was dressed casually.It made him look younger, I vaguely noted, but he still had the same gravitas wearing jeans as in anything else. 

In the face of the other man’s continued silence, I went on speaking.“Look, you’ve tried the shroud and I’ve tried everything I know of.Hell, I even tried to initiate a soul gaze.”I looked up at him from where I sat.“It didn’t work.I’m sorry but — if she’s in there — she’s well out of my reach.”

As I spoke, I’d needed to repress a shudder.Trying to soul gaze the girl had been a mistake.Peeling back her eyelids to stare into those baby blue eyes, as glassy and vacant as those of a doll, had been deeply disturbing.As the old saying goes, the eyes are the window to the soul.But, in Amanda’s case, they weren’t.This worried me even more than the fact the girl had been asleep for fifteen years.

When Marcone did finally speak, his voice was cold and hard and dangerous.“She _is_ in there, Dresden.You are simply going to try harder to find her.”

_Oh, so I hadn’t been trying hard enough, had I?_The pain in my head intensified and I grit my teeth against it.

I tried to keep my tone neutral, but my obvious frustration still seeped through — all those nights of bad sleep in the motel were wearing me down.“Well, _John_, I’ve been here for two weeks and I’ve tried every spell I can think of and then some.There are just some things that can’t be fixed with magic.Don’t you think I would help her if I could?

Marcone waved a hand dismissively.“If you aren’t competent enough to help her, find someone who can.I thought you had contacts.”

_Contacts?_I frowned and glanced up at him, unsure if I had read the implication in his voice correctly.He already knew that I’d spoken to Listens-to-Wind, the best healer the White Council had to offer, but he couldn’t possibly want..?Could he..?

Marcone stood before me, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“You thought I had contacts,” I repeated slowly.“Let’s be straight with each other.Are you implying that you want me to complete a summoning?You want _demons_ involved in this?”

The man remained silent. That was answer enough itself. 

“I want you to trust me on this, _John_,” I hissed, holding the other man’s gaze, “involving demons in this is one way to make things one hell of a lot worse.They manipulate — they _deceive_ — it would probably end up with one of us dead and her losing her soul to one of the bastards.That is not an avenue I am willing to explore.” 

I didn’t have to put it so bluntly, but by this point I was done sugar-coating things for the bastard. 

Marcone didn’t miss a beat.“What of the other alternatives?I’ve heard you speak of the Faerie Courts — couldn’t you turn to them for assistance?”

I laughed, the sound of it hollow and sardonic.“Faeries?Fey magic is powerful, but making a deal with them has the same level of risk as involving demons.They’re creatures of the NeverNever — by human standards, most of them are hardly sane.Their way of helping out would be far too unpredictable.They’d probably end up turning the kid into a tree — or something equally crazy — and expect you to thank them for it.”

There was a pause.The faint hum of the ceiling light and the chatter of two nurses as they walked down the corridor outside filtered into the room.

When Marcone spoke, his voice was wintry cold.“So, you are telling me that you can do nothing?That, for the two weeks you have been here, you have totally failed to make any progress whatsoever?”

‘_Keep it calm, Harry, keep it calm..._’ I thought.‘_Making Marcone go ‘boom’ is a short term solution..._’

Despite my attempts to quell my anger at Marcone’s goading, the memory of those blank blue eyes swam before me.If there was one word to describe anger, sadness and repulsion all at once, it would have summed up what those empty eyes did to me.Stars and stones, my head hurt...

“I am telling you that I have done all I can,” I finally managed, speaking through gritted teeth.“The other option would be impossible.”

Interest kindled in Marcone’s eyes.

“The other option?” he repeated.“What’s the alternative, Dresden?”

It was my turn to remain silent.You know, keeping my mouth shut is a skill I haven’t quite yet been able to master.

Without warning, Marcone darted forward to grab the front of my shirt.Gods, I’d forgotten how fast the man could move.He yanked me forwards — I half stumbled and nearly fell on the other man in the process — and I was suddenly face to face with him. 

Those pale green eyes bored into me.

“What else can you do, Dresden?” he said, every syllable clipped and carefully enunciated.

I was taller than Marcone, but he didn’t seem the least intimidated.His grip on my shirt was firm and his coolness infuriated me.Anger curled in my belly, fuelled by my frustration and the bitterness I felt at my own impotence.My temper flared, but I was still in control.

Just.

“Well, _John_, our other option is a bit of human sacrifice.”I spoke to him in a sing song voice, as if talking to a particularly dim witted child.“Say we rounded up a few people — the homeless, drug addicts and so on, _people no one would miss_ — and cooked up some dark magic.Once we’d stored up enough energy, around fifteen deaths would probably be enough, we’d pour all of that into Amanda.”

Marcone was silent, but I could see that I had got to him.

I went on.“What do you think all that dark magic would do to that little girl?How old was she when she went into the coma?Five?Six?We’d be subjecting a child to some of the most dangerous magic in existence.Yeah, it might make her look alive — but she’d either be a puppet to darker forces than we can handle or an absolute monster.” 

The grip on my shirt was released. Marcone stepped back from me, sneer clear on his face: the only other people who had looked at me with such disdain were all dead...

“If I had known you were going to be so totally useless,” he snapped, “I would have let the White Council take you.”

Blame it on Marcone’s needling, the sleepless nights or two weeks of being reminded daily of my own powerlessness to help a little girl, but I lost it.My head still hurt, but it was background noise in the face of my anger.My grip on my temper, which had already started to weaken, faltered.

“Yeah, well maybe you should have,” I spat, “but at least I’m not the one with that girl’s blood on my hands.”

As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them.Amanda was the driving force behind everything Marcone did: I knew that from our soul gaze.She was the bedrock upon which he built his empire, the motivating factor that would push him to steal even the Turin Shroud.He would do anything to try and save her, and I’d just thrown it all back in his face.

Marcone’s posture went rigid.When he looked at me, there was murder lurking in those eyes that were normally so expressionless. 

“_What did you say?_” he breathed.

Memories of our soul gaze pummelled into me.I knew Marcone was dangerous, knew that he had the soul of a predator: what I’d just done was equivalent to slipping into the zoo’s tiger enclosure with an apple in my mouth and wearing a t-shirt that read ‘lunch’.Yeah, I had a policy of talking big around Marcone, but there are some boundaries I knew that I couldn’t cross.Until now. 

Anger forgotten, I stumbled over myself to apologise.“Look, Marcone, I didn’t mean that.I didn’t mean to—”

I was unable to finish my sentence as I suddenly found myself dodging the man’s fist.

I ducked to the side on instinct.He’d aimed straight for my face, so the blow landed on my shoulder instead.Pain lanced through me — he wasn’t pulling his punches.Unfazed, Marcone swiftly followed it up with a savage kick to my mid section.It winded me — the guy was strong — but I managed to stay on my feet.I did _not_ want to go to the floor with Marcone like this.

“Jesus, John, calm the fuck down!” I half panted, half gasped.I ducked away from him, trying to put some distance between us.“You’re not thinking rationally,” I snapped, dodging another blow.“I can do magic, remember?Magic!Are you really going to make me set fire to you?”

“Shut your mouth, Dresden,” he snarled, lunging for me.

Marcone moved with the speed of a striking snake.He reached forward with unbelievable speed to grab me and slam me bodily against the nearest wall.My head connected with a sharp thud and my vision swam for a moment, the force of the impact leaving me breathless. 

He moved in close to me. Strong hands gripped the fabric of my shirt and I found myself staring into green eyes that burned with a cold fury. 

For a moment, I forgot that I had powers.I forgot that I could call upon my magic and get myself out of this situation in one of a hundred ways.I could taste my guilt and adrenaline and fear and... something else.At the sight of Marcone so incensed, _something_ thrummed through my veins to a rhythm I couldn’t quite place.

“How dare you, Dresden,” Marcone breathed, dangerously close.“How _dare _you.” 

I could feel the warmth of his hands against me.Could he feel my heart’s stuttering staccato beat?Did he feel the shiver that ran through me at his words? 

I could smell his cologne, the scent rich, dark and expensive.I was suddenly painfully aware of his proximity — he was so close that I could see the darker flecks of green in his irises, hear his short and sharp breathing, matching the erratic rhythm of my own. 

Something in the air had shifted.I sure as hell had felt it, and it seemed like Marcone had too.His eyes were blown and his usually meticulous appearance was mussed — several loose strands of hair hung down over his forehead.

Our eyes met.A shiver of electricity thrummed through me and I nearly forgot to breathe. I darted out my tongue to wet my suddenly dry lips. 

And then Marcone was on me. 

It was a biting kiss.His lips pressed against mine, tongue pushing into my mouth.I let him in willingly, responding with a passion and urgency I hadn’t felt for a long time.It was messy and awkward and glorious.There were more teeth involved than I think is strictly advised, but I couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had ignited such a heat within me.I moaned into it, losing myself in the sensation.

Marcone pulled back for a moment, moving to bite and suck at the nape of my neck.It hurt — a delightful pain — and the man was clearly aiming to leave a mark.I gasped at the feeling of his mouth on me, reaching up to run my hands through his hair, encouraging him.He growled something against my skin, but I couldn’t quite make it out.

When he was done with my neck, Marcone captured my lips once again in a kiss.He clasped me in his arms; I gripped him with equal ferocity, the fabric of his clothes smooth against my skin.His hands moved lower, stopping to grip my ass through the fabric of my jeans.I gasped at the sensation, an aching heat pooling in my belly.

“_Only you, Dresden,_” Marcone murmured, pushing against me.“_Only you..._”

I didn’t hear the rest of what Marcone said: the sensation of his body pressed against mine, his hardness pushed against my own aching desire eclipsed everything else.A moan escaped me and I bucked against him, desperate for more of that delicious pressure.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. 

Marcone jerked himself away from me.He stepped back and turned away swiftly, concealing his expression.

_What the hell had we just done?_I was glad I was leaning against the wall for support, because I think my knees may have buckled in the face of my shock.I simply stood there, panting as though I was starved for air. 

When Marcone spoke, there wasn’t a trace of the sultry tone of mere moments ago.His voice was cold and firm: back to business.

“This discussion is not over,” he said, still facing away from me.“You say you can’t find a way to help her — I say you haven’t looked hard enough.You have one week, Dresden.I expect to hear of your progress then.” 

The door shut after him with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make this clear, I am not condoning Marcone’s strategy of Kung fu kicking someone before making out with them. Chocolates and a bottle of wine normally work much better. And looking at what I’ve written before, I seem to have a bit of a ‘thing’ for characters making ill-advised bargains with bad guys. Hmm...
> 
> I wasn’t sure how long Amanda Beckitt would have been in a coma for, so I made my best guess. If you’ve got a better suggestion, please shoot it over!
> 
> As always, thanks for any comments or kudos you are kind enough to leave.


	2. The Words Unspoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I miss you like I miss you.” A.F. Harrold

“Shit, shit, shit!”

I glared own at the mess of shattered glass and steaming liquid that had been the potion I’d been working on for the last two hours.The gentle glow of candlelight — candles being the only way I can illuminate my lab — glinted off the shards scattered across the floor.I bit back a growl.Those were two hours of work I wouldn’t be getting back: magic potions generally aren’t much use when they’re splattered all over the floor...

I knelt down and began to pick up fragments of glass which, on second thought, was a pretty dumb idea.I managed to cut myself within about five seconds.I hissed in pain and surveyed the damage: a slice of crimson across my palm._Gods, I could be a clumsy ass sometimes._

A tentative voice called out to me from the shelf.“Erm, boss?”

“What?” I growled.Man, that cut stung.

“Well, err— don’t you think it’s time you took a break?You know, relax, read a book, that sort of thing?I know your social life leaves much to be desired, but even you need to go outside occasionally.”

The tone of Bob’s voice surprised me.I turned away from the ruins of my potion to look at the skull.Despite the total lack of facial muscles, he somehow gave the impression of a concerned frown and his orange eye-lights flickered.Now that made me stop and think.Was Bob —a being with a moral compass about as well developed as a toddler’s and as self-absorbed as a freaking mirror— actually worried about me?

After ditching the fragments of glass I’d scooped up into the trash, I began to root around for a bandage.The cut on my hand wasn’t serious, but I didn’t plan on leaking blood everywhere.In my opinion, you can never be too careful where blood is concerned. 

“It’s fine,” I said whilst rummaging through various drawers.“I need to get this done and there are still avenues I need to explore.”

Bob’s tone was sceptical.“Right.Just to check, when was the last time that you ate?”

Surprised by the sudden question, I paused in my rifling.Huh._When was the last time I had—_

“You see!You can’t even remember!”Bob’s voice was triumphant and more than a little grating.“Wizard you may be, Harry, but you’re going to be no use to anyone as a half-starved hermit.”

Now that wounded my pride.

“Hey!” I snapped, rounding on the skull.“I’ve already got enough to deal with here, and your trash talk isn’t helping.”

“If you’re looking for pity Harry, you’re not going to get it.Running yourself into the ground isn’t helping anyone and, to be perfectly candid, you look like crap.”Bob sniffed.“And I’m pretty sure you smell bad too.I’m olfactorily challenged, so I can’t be certain.Would a shower and a shave kill you?”

Honesty: a double edged sword. 

I frowned and leaned against my desk, mission to find a bandage now forgotten.I ran a hand over my forehead in a weary gesture.“Look, I’ve got more important things to think about than looking pretty.”

“You need to know when you’ve been beaten, Harry.That girl’s out of your reach.”

My back stiffened.Amanda, the girl with the empty blue eyes; the girl who magic had failed; the girl Marcone would sell his soul to save.

Jonny Marcone.I could feel the ghost of him against me, the whisper of his hands on my skin, the breath of his lips against mine... God damn it.Why did all of my thoughts have to end with him?

I grit my teeth and my voice came out sounding hard and cold.“You don’t know that.You don’t know that I can’t help her.”

Bob scoffed.“Spirit of intellect here, Harry. I do know and I’m telling you to give up on this fool’s errand.You had the same response from the Archive.”

Yeah, I’d tried talking to Ivy.Consulting the Archive — the magical equivalent of Google on steroids — had been one of my avenues to help Amanda.It hadn’t paid off though.Ivy’s tone over the phone had been sympathetic but firm.After giving me the run down of Amanda’s previous treatment (patient confidentiality fell flat in the face of the Archive), she assured me that all that could be done had already been done.Modern medicine just wasn’t up to the job. When I’d then questioned her as to what magic I could use to help her, she’d refused to give me a straight answer.All she’d told me was that the costs would be high and the outcomes uncertain.Not good, not good at all...

I shoved thoughts of one Ivy to one side.I neededto focus on solutions, not dead ends. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m out of options,” I snapped.“I’m a freaking wizard, Bob.There’s not much point in the whole magic business if it can’t help one girl.”

Bob sighed.“Thick headed as always.You can’t get something for nothing, Harry.From the sound of it, your only hope of success is sealing some bargain with someone or something from the NeverNever — an idea so stupid that I’m worried you’d actually consider it.”His orange eyelights flickered for a moment.“Thinking rationally, it seems like the most reasonable option at this stage would be to kill her.I can’t imagine that there’s much point keeping the girl in the twilight like this.”

I rounded on the skull, temper flaring.“For fuck’s sake, Bob!Kill her?Kill a child?If that’s the only advice you can give, then you should shut the hell up.”

“Harry, be reasonable.Can’t you see that this is pointless?Not even the Merlin of the White Council could help her!”

I growled, turning my back on Bob and his words.Perhaps I was so angry at him because he was simply saying what a little voice — one I tried to repress as much as possible — had already whispered to me ever since I’d agreed to help Marcone.Maybe Amanda was out of reach.Maybe I was trying to accomplish the impossible.But I didn’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I didn’t fight against the odds.Hey, I’m Harry Dresden: it’s what I do. 

My frustration made me decisive.An option — one that I’d considered and shied away from before — now seemed almost viable.Hell’s bells, desperation can make almost anything seem appealing.Anger has that effect too.Some of the boldest things I’ve ever done have been spurred on by anger, and a fair amount of most stupid too.And I was furious, furious at a world that would leave me powerless to help one little girl.It was high time I actually started doing something rather than mouldering away in my lab.

_Now, what would I need..?_

Jars and vials were sent skittering across my desk as I rummaged through my stores of potion ingredients.Drawers were opened, slammed shut again, jars that I hadn’t had cause to use for years were re-opened and their contents inspected._Winter twilight, holly berries picked on New Year’s Day, powdered butterfly wings..._

I was vaguely aware of the insistent buzz of Bob’s increasingly concerned voice in the background.The wound on my hand — the cut that I’d all but forgotten in my anger — also began to throb.Wizards heal fast and the wound had already closed, blood dried around it.I blocked out both distractions. 

Once I’d assembled the things I needed and laid them out, I started doing the necessary checks on my copper circle.It was set into the concrete of the floor and gleamed dully, reflecting the room’s flickering candlelight.I always did my best to keep that area of my laboratory clear, but doing double and triple checks on it was one of the reasons I’d lived past thirty.Many wizards didn’t.

“—boss?BOSS?Earth to insane wizard?” 

Now that my preparations were complete, I had attention to spare for Bob.

I glanced back at him.“What?”

When Bob replied, his tone was the one I imagine people use when speaking to people who are one step away from jumping off a thirty storey building.“Harry, please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, right?You know it’s a stupid idea.A stupid and extremely dangerous.” 

Reassured that the circle was in working order, I readied my powers.“Sorry, Bob.Stupid and extremely dangerous may as well be on my business card.”I readied my will and my nerve: I’d need both.“I think it’s about time for a summoning.”

* * *

There were three rings before Marcone picked up.

“I expect that you have news for me, Dresden,” he said, voice crisp and businesslike. 

“We need to talk.I’ve made progress.”

There was a pause.

“I see.”If Marcone was in any way affected by what I’d said, he was very good at hiding it.“As pleased as I am that you’ve actually proved yourself useful for once, let’s not do this over the phone.Some things are best discussed in person.”

I frowned.Marcone was never keen on spending quality time with yours truly and — considering what happened last time —I wasn’t sure I was ready to be around him. 

I hid my discomfort.“You really want a dinner date, John?Sorry to disappoint, but the phone works fine for me.”

Marcone sighed.“Although I’m confident of my own security measures, I am unsure of yours.I’m not willing to take any unnecessary risks.”

I put two and two together.“You’re worried about the line?”

No reply, which was an answer in itself.

“Well, that changes things.Lucky for you that I’m feeling hungry,” I drawled.“I’ll see you in Burger King in—”

Marcone cut me off.“I don’t think so.I’d prefer for this to be a private meeting.”

A private meeting?Memories of the last time we met assaulted me: his hands pulling me forward, his lips on my neck, the press of his body against mine. _The scent of him..._Now, I’m not going to spout any bullshit about the man smelling like ‘cinnamon’ or God knows what else.Marcone smelt like power and sex, and the echo of it sent a shiver of heat through me.

So, was I quite ready to be alone with him?I wasn’t sure. 

“Gee, John,” I said slowly, “I’m impressed.Leaving yourself alone with the big, bad wizard?Is that really a good idea?Don’t you want the Gorilla or Blondie there to hold your hand?”

Yeah, I wasn’t fooling anyone.Marcone would sense the discomfort beneath the bravado like a shark smelling blood.That being said, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try and trash talk my way out of any trouble that crossed my path.

As always, Marcone rose above my posturing.

“Executive Priority, 11:00pm,” he said before cutting off the line.

* * *

Thresholds have power.Any wizard with two brain cells to rub together can tell you that.Once you cross a threshold, the world is a little different.You’re a little different.And I was stood before a threshold that I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to cross.

The door to Marcone’s office.

I’m not one whose spooked easily — I’ve seen too much for that — but I was feeling a little on edge.I hadn’t seen another soul since entering the building.Yeah, there’d been a couple of obligatory goons guarding the front of the building but, other than that, the place was conspicuously empty.Where was everyone?The place was a high-class brothel masquerading as a gym, so it should have been teeming with hookers and people with a lack morals but plenty of cash.Had Marcone cleared out the entire building for a meeting with little-old-me?Not a reassuring thought.

Was I frightened?No, not really.But... there was a tension in the air.The tension of possibility.Asstood in the hallway before Marcone’s office, the dim electric light pushing back the evening gloom, I could practically taste it.If I entered that room, things were going to change.And the idea of possibility — of what could be — between myself and Marcone had me as nervous as I’d ever felt facing down any number of supernatural bad guys. 

And what did I do?The usual.Squaring my shoulders, I dredged up my best ‘don’t fuck with the wizard’ face and flung the door open before striding confidently into the room. 

So, how was my grand entrance received?With barely the quirk of an eyebrow.

I won’t bore you with a long description of Johnny Marcone’s office.It was ergonomic, not ostentatious, but still smelt of money.The man himself was sat behind a desk of dark, smooth wood that faced the door.He still had some paperwork in hand — no doubt relating to some scheme of his — and I couldn’t see a computer in sight.Knowing of my impending arrival, he’d apparently had the sense remove all traces of technology.

Following my sudden entrance, Marcone pointedly continued to read the document he was holding.He then signed it with a practised gesture and then carefully arranged the stack of papers.Only when he was quite finished did he look up at me with those eyes the colour of faded dollar bills. 

“Dresden,” he finally said.“Your progress?”

_Friendly. _

“Gee, John,” I said, “aren’t you even going to offer me a seat?I thought a high-class place like this offered better service than that.”

That earned a wry smile.“Service?” he repeated.“If you were hoping to make use of your Executive Priority membership, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.I gave everyone the night off.”A pause.“I don’t want us to be disturbed.”

Or overheard, was the omitted ending to the sentence.He wasn’t willing to take any risks when it came to Amanda.

I shrugged.“Yeah, well I don’t think I’m an ‘Executive Priority’ kind of guy.Those girls you’ve got aren’t really my type.”

Marcone’s cool eyes never left my face, his expression inscrutable.“I see,” he said.“Well, I’m sure something can be arranged.”

_I’m sure something can be arranged..?_What was this?Flirting?Shadows of the last time we met flickered at the edge of my vision.I felt myself grow hot.

In contrast, Marcone was a picture of composure.He made an open handed gesture, conciliatory.“Apologies for my brusqueness,” he went on.“Do take a seat, Dresden.”

I smiled brightly at the other man.“I’d rather stand, thanks.” 

_Yeah, yeah, I know..._ But I’ve got a reputation to maintain.Harry Dresden: utter dick.

Marcone just raised an eyebrow and — for once — refrained from commenting.Instead, he got up and walked over to a sleek drinks cabinet to the side of the room.With assured movements, he took out a bottle of some rich amber liquid — whisky, I thought — and poured some into two glasses.

The man was wearing another of his sleek business suits.Say one thing for Marcone, the guy looked so good in a suit it was practically indecent.The thought caused a sudden flash of self conscious shame.Yeah, I’d thrown myself in the shower and had the sense to shave before he meeting, but...Well, looking at Marcone right now, I wish I’d picked something else to wear than my ‘come to the dark side, we have coffee’ t-shirt and my rather ragged leather duster. Now, I wouldn’t call myself vain but — compared to the other man — I felt like Robin Williams when he first rocked up in Jumanji...

While I wrestled with myself, Marcone finished up at the drinks cabinet and walked over to me.The faint aroma of his cologne hung in the air.Had it always smelt so good?When he offered me a glass, hand outstretched and green eyes boring into mine, I took it.

We drank in silence.Marcone leaning back against his desk while I just stood there and tried to look anywhere apart from at him. 

It was Marcone who spoke first, his voice surprisingly soft.

“Aren’t we going to talk about last time, Harry?”

He always was a man to go right for the jugular. 

I thought for a moment, fighting back the heat I felt rising in my cheeks.“Will it change anything?” I asked finally

Marcone surveyed silently, keeping his gaze on me slightly too long for comfort, and then shrugged.“Probably not,” he said.“A pity.”

_A pity..._ That was what he’d said when we’d first met, when our soul gaze had placed us on opposing sides of the same coin._A true pity..._

I took another sip of whisky and said nothing.

Marcone continued to observe me, apparently unperturbed by the silence.“You’ve cut your hand.”

I glanced at him.“What?”

He gestured with his glass.“Your hand.”

I looked down at my palm as if it was somehow new to me and saw the stroke of crimson across it.Due to the events of the day, I’d all but forgotten about it.Self-conscious, I felt a touch of colour tinge my cheeks.“Oh, this?It’s nothing — wizards heal quickly.”

“Let me see.”

He put down his drink with a crisp ‘clink’ on the desk and moved closer.Too close.He took my injured hand in his, turning the palm up, faded green eyes surveying the wound.On a normal person, the cut would have been a couple of days old.Like I said, wizards heal quickly.

Marcone traced the outline of the wound with the tips of his fingers.I didn’t hurt, not at all, but the healing skin was hyper-sensitive.The sensation of his touch echoed through me and I felt a familiar warmth coiling in my gut.This intimacy between us, with a man I apparently ‘despised’, where would it lead?

“This looks like it was a bad cut,” Marcone said, voice warm and low.“You should be more careful.”

Did my hand feel hot in his grip?Did he want to reach out and touch me, like I wanted to reach out and touch him?Or would we just stay like this?A cheap imitation of two lovers holding hands.

Time slowed to half its normal speed.As if entranced, I watched Marcone raise my palm to his lips and press a kiss against the still healing wound.Then, as if emboldened, he delicately traced the outline of the cut with his tongue, an action both intimate and alien.A kiss for the wounded.

‘What does my blood taste like?’ I almost found myself asking, but bit back the words.A man like Marcone — in his line of work and at the peak of his power— would already know the taste of blood better than most.

And, just like that, the spell was broken. 

Reluctantly, I pulled my hand back.“It’s fine,” I said.Did my voice sound breathless?“Like I said, ‘wizard’.Something like this is nothing to me.”

Marcone took a step back and, once again, we were on opposing sides.‘Good guy’ Harry Dresden and the ‘nefarious’ Johnny Marcone.Maybe if I repeated it enough times, I could make it true?_A pity... a pity... a pity..._ The ghost of his words echoed around me.

When Marcone looked at me, his eyes were cold and flat.It was back to business.

“You have new information,” he said, all trace of any previous warmth gone.“Tell me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter were meant to be released as one but — as always — I found the prospect of wrestling with a 5000-word-and-counting beast a bit daunting. As it looks like I’m going to have more time to dedicate to writing, hopefully there shouldn’t be too much of a delay before the next chapter.
> 
> Hope you’re all well and, as always, thanks for any comments and kudos you’re kind enough to leave. 
> 
> P.S. Apologies if this has already been mentioned on here but, if you haven’t watched the ‘live action’ trailer for the next book on Jim Butcher’s website, GO AND DO IT RIGHT NOW. There’s a wonderfully homoerotic scene with Harry and John in their underwear. It’s probably the best thing to come out of 2020 so far.


	3. Coda

“...and a flood of sweet fire sweeps across me, so I drown against him, die, and find death good.’” DH Lawrence

* * *

“I asked you a question.Can you help the girl or not?”

Looking back, I was a fool to expect a straight answer.Hints and riddles are as ingrained into the nature of the fey as magic itself.Despite knowing that, I had little patience left for word games. 

A thin layer of frost had formed on my laboratory floor and my breath misted before me.The room was illuminated by a crystalline light emanating from my summoning circle; it was the crisp light of a winter’s morning, forming sharp shadows on the walls and causing the now icy floor to glint and glimmer beneath my feet.

Emerald green eyes, sparkling with amusement, gazed out at me from the circle.They belonged to the Leananshide: my godmother.

She tilted her head to one side, fiery red locks cascading around her, a smile on her berry red lips.“How sweet,” she said, tone flippant, how you might address a child or a pet.“The things you do to help others.So precious, _so foolish..._”

“That isn’t an answer.I want to know if you can help her.”I spoke between gritted teeth._Be patient, Harry, be patient..._

“Hmmm,” Leah held up a hand in front of her, idly admiring the perfect points of her nails; they were coloured deepest jade, matching her eyes exactly.“You ask me a question, and I ask you one in return.What motive do have to help this girl?”

I frowned.“I’m helping her because I help people,” I said.“It’s what I do.”

She laughed, the sound bright and melodious and mocking.“Is it?How strange!And I thought that you caused people problems.”

I won’t lie and say that her words didn’t sting a little.Sure, sometimes things went awry when I got involved, but I’m pretty sure that I still came on top when it came to the cost versus benefit ratio.Pushing down my pride, I glared at her and said nothing.

Leah shrugged after a couple of moments, a feline movement.“I did not mean it as a slight, child.I just say what I observe.”She brought a finger to her lips, expression thoughtful.“Only dire need would cause you to ask for my assistance, so I ask again — how do you benefit from saving this girl?”

I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice.“I’ve already told you, because I help people.”

Contrary to my anger, Leah laughed again, clapping her hands in apparent delight.“Still so stubborn!” she managed once the fit had died down.“Dearest, you never were a good liar, and certainly not to yourself!I ask for the third and final time: why help her?”

I looked away from her, unable to hold that taunting green gaze.

Why was I willing to go so far for Amanda?Was it because of Marcone?Because of whatever the hell it was that had somehow grown between us?Or was it those blank blue eyes, so empty that they couldn’t even hold a soul-gaze?

I sighed deeply and ran a hand through my hair, wishing I could think straight.I hadn’t been myself since my last encounter with Marcone._Stars and stones, this whole thing was a mess..._

When I finally spoke, my answer was simple and the closest thing I had to the truth.

“Because I made a promise.”

Leah didn’t speak for a moment.She observed me closely, a faint frown forming on her brow, before giving a slight nod. “You surprise me, child.This must be a weighty promise indeed; I don’t recall you feeling any such obligation to live up to your agreements with me.”She sighed.“But... mortals are such inconstant creatures.Some change is to be expected, for better or for worse.”

I sensed a breakthrough and pushed on.“You’ve got your answer, Godmother.What about mine?”

Leah’s green eyes flashed and she moved closer until she was a hair’s breadth away from the protective barrier of the circle.Her berry lips parted in a wide smile, revealing pearly rows of perfect white teeth and — when she spoke — her voice was dripping with unadulterated greed.

“_Give her to me._”

* * *

“—and that’s what’s she’s offering.It’s not great, but it’s all I’ve got”

Marcone continued to watch me intently, pale green eyes flat and unreadable. He hadn’t said a word while I had explained Leah’s offer; he simply listened with his fingers steepled before him like he did when he was thinking.

“So, this Leananshide — your godmother — has the ability to heal her?” he said finally.“The girl would be well again?”

Wishing that what I had to say next wasn’t the truth, I shook my head.“Not completely.” 

Marcone’s expression sharpened instantly.“What do you mean?”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.“Leah’s offer extends only to the NeverNever.Amanda would effectively be trapped there; awake, but totally dependent on Leah’s magic.Its concentration is much higher there, and leaving the NeverNever would be like cutting off her life support.”_Gods, I didn’t want to tell him this..._“It’s fool’s gold, John.Fae magic isn’t permanent: spells weaken, wards wear down.Yeah, Leah could enchant her somehow, but it wouldn’t last forever.”

Marcone looked at me coldly.The warmth of his hand against mine, the whisper of his lips across my palm suddenly felt as though they happened years, not mere minutes ago.“Life doesn’t last forever, Dresden.You should know that better than most.”

Back to ‘Dresden’, was it?I used to hate it when he said my first name, but now?Well, things were different.

I held my hands out to him palms up and conciliatory;his gaze flicked to the cut there for a moment, vivid against my pale skin.“What Leah’s offering would be no life nor her, and you know it.Hell, she’d probably treat her as some sort of pet.The kid deserves more than that.”

“She _deserves_ more than spending the rest of her life in a coma.” 

I wanted to reach out and comfort him, to take away just some of that pain he had carried with like a second skin him for years.No matter how well he concealed it, I knew this would hurt him. But awful as the truth was, giving the man false hope would have been even crueller.

“Life in the NeverNever for her wouldn’t be a life at all,” I said as gently as I could.“You don’t know what it’s like in there.There’s no in-between: everything’s either incredibly beautiful or incredibly deadly — normally both.Amanda’s been asleep for fifteen years.She’s just a _child_.To send her — a kid — into a place like that would be unthinkable.”

Marcone’s gaze was cold and hard and calculating: this was the crime lord speaking, not the man.“Our agreement was that you would find a way to help her.”I started to speak, but he talked over me.“However, all you seem to have achieved is the possibility of condemning the girl to a fate worse than death.Is this honestly the best you can do?”

Although I did my best to keep my voice calm, I’m sure he saw through it.He always saw through it.“I’ve explored all the avenues and this is what we have.I’d do more if I could, but this is how it is.”

His eyes narrowed.“Then this whole exercise has been pointless.”

“It wasn’t pointless.”It sounded hollow, even to me. _W__hy__ can I never find the right words?_

He gave that mirthless little laugh of his.“Really?The evidence seems to say otherwise.”

It was time to be perfectly honest with him.

“I’ve done all I can, John, and so have you — even the Archive has said has much.This is the end of the road.”I looked him straight in the eyes, hoping I could get through.“You’ve tortured yourself over this for years.It’s time to let go.The best thing to do now is wait and hope that time will heal her.”

There was a flicker of surprise that was swiftly replaced by cold, hard anger, as if I had overstepped some line he had drawn between us.

“It’s been fifteen years,” he spat.“I think you’ll forgive me if I’m somewhat sceptical.”

Undeterred, I took a step towards him.“It’s not your fault, John.”

His eyes flashed and his voice — normally so calm — was torn between anger and sadness.“You know nothing, Dresden.”

“Don’t I?” I snapped.“Last time I checked, you weren’t the one who shot her.”

Marcone’s eyes went flat and his lips thinned into a hard line: I was treading on dangerous ground.

Acting on instinct, I reached forward to clasp one of his hands in mine.He tried to pull away, but I held him fast in my grip.“Listen to me,” I entreated.“This isn’t helping her and it isn’t helping you.You built a criminal empire to support her, you stole the Turin Shroud: you’ve done everything.”

His hand stilled in mine and — for a moment — I felt it return my fierce grip with equal strength.But it was only for a moment.

“Let go of me, Dresden.”The mask of professionalism was back, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt by it.

Hardly realising what I was doing, I raised his hand to my mouth.His knuckles — although scarred — were smooth against my lips.

I thought I saw him waver, saw those pale green eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but then there was a sudden movement, a flash of silver, and sharp a thud.

When I looked down, there was a silver dagger embedded in the floor less than an inch from me.

Marcone slipped his hand from my stunned grip and, when he spoke, his voice was heavy with finality.

“Get out.”

* * *

A room that both was and wasn’t empty.Perfectly smooth bedsheets and a group of poplar trees just visible from the window.Silence and stillness._Such small hands..._

“—do you think, Harry?”

I snapped back to reality._God damn it, Harry, this again?_I sat up a little straighter and tried to work out what Murphy had been saying to me.

“Sounds great,” I ventured, taking a sip of my drink and hoping she hadn’t caught on that I’d been there in body but not in spirit or most of the conversation.

But this was Murphy: of course she caught on.

She scowled at me.“You have no idea what I just said, do you?”

I considered lying, but thought better of it.I slumped back in my chair and ran a hand over my face.“Sorry, Murph.I’m not with it today.”

We were sat at a corner table in McAnally’s.We’d been comparing notes over a series of disappearances that had all the hallmarks of supernatural involvement.Although this was my area of expertise, I was struggling to keep my head in the game.And this wasn’t an isolated incident either.I’d been spacing out a lot since... since I’d...Well, you get what I mean.

Murphy folded her arms and looked at me for just a little to long and a little too intently for it to be strictly comfortable.“You’ve been weird lately,” she said after what felt like an ice age.

I forced a laugh.“Weird is my normal, Murph.It’s nothing.”

Those blue eyes narrowed slightly and she shook her head.“No, it’s not,” she said simply.“I thought you trusted me enough to tell me when you’re in trouble.”

I knew she was being kind, but it just made me feel even more guilty.What was I supposed to say?How could I find the words to tell her that I was a haunted by Johnny Marcone — the shadow of what could have been between us — and a little girl who was beyond my reach?

But Murph, as per usual, was right: she deserved my trust.

“I know, I know.It’s just...” I groped for the right words.“I—I let down a client and it’s got to me.”

She sat back, expression thoughtful.“How bad?”

“Pretty bad,” I said, trying to ignore a sudden heat in my eyes and the knot that had formed in my throat.“Turned out I couldn’t help.Did everything I could, but it still came to nothing.”

She nodded slowly.“What did they do?Get angry?Refuse to pay your fee?”

I hadn’t realised that I’d been fiddling with the silver pentacle at my neck.I let it drop.“No, not really.They just gave me the cold shoulder, I guess.”

Gods, I couldn’t believe it had been well over a month since my ‘run in’ with Marcone.I had seen him since, totally by accident though.One of my cases had taken me to a swankier part of town and I’d seen him coming out of some high-class building, flanked by Hendricks and Gard.He looked like he’d lost weight; he was leaner and the angles of his face sharper.I’d hoped to remain unseen, but Cujo and Blondie are paid to be observant.Gard said something to Marcone — obviously alerting him of my presence — and he’d looked straight at me.For a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he obviously thought better of it.He simply turned away and passed by me without a word.I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t hurt me.

Murphy’s frown deepened and she drummed her fingers on the table.“So you’re telling me a client got pissy with you — even after doing your best — and it’s tying you up in knots?”Her voice and expression softened.“That’s not like you, Harry.”

My throat tightened even further and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to laugh or sob._Get a grip, Harry, seriously._“I—I’m just disappointed, Murph,” I finally managed.“Things didn’t work out as I’d hoped.”

She shrugged and took a sip of her drink.“That’s life.Sometimes accepting how things are — shitty as the are — can be a real challenge.But you can only move on once you do.”

And I knew that she understood.Her badge had been everything to her, and she’d lost it because she’d been kind enough to help me when nobody else could.

I dredged up a weary smile.“So that’s life then: death, taxes and disappointment.”

She reached over and patted my hand, looking at me with warm blue eyes and a gentle smile curving her lips.“I think there’s a little more to it than that.”

* * *

I’d gone to see her again, Amanda.Of course I’d done it without Marcone’s knowledge and didn’t want to complicate things by telling Murph. 

I’m not entirely sure why I went —I didn’t know her, hadn’t been able to help her.Some misplaced sense of responsibility, perhaps?I just knew that it felt like the right thing to do.

I sat beside her, just as I’d seen Marcone do what seemed like forever ago, and found myself at a loss.I wish I could put a name to it, that silence you have between two people.It’s somehow so much more profound than the silence of simply being by yourself.

Eventually, I found my voice.Not quite knowing why I did so, I started describing the day outside.I talked about the sky — a vivid blue — the group of poplar trees visible from her window.I even talked about the birds I’d seen skittering around on the grass, gathering crumbs thrown to them by one of the other patients.They weren’t things I’d pay much attention to normally, but the kid hadn’t opened her eyes for fifteen years: she deserved to know what the sky was like.

Looking back, I think I’d gone there expecting to justify myself to her.I’d imagined giving a long winded explanation that — although myself and Marcone had tried to help her — it hadn’t quite been enough.I’d wanted to tell her that she could take as long as she needed to get better; she could take all the time in the world because there were people who cared about her more than anything, wanted her to get better more than anything, and would wait for her, no matter how long it took.

In the end, I didn’t say any of it.I figured it wasn’t necessary.Marcone had been caring for the girl for years: she already knew. 

So I talked about the world outside her window.I talked about the mundane yet extraordinary events of day to day life, and hoped she understood that I was really saying ‘sorry’ in the convoluted way of adults who couldn’t quite find the right words.

* * *

Time passed.

It was a particularly bleak evening.I was in my apartment; rain was pelting down outside and I’d tried to alleviate some of the gloom by lighting a fire and curling up with my battered copy of The Lord of the Rings.Mouse was sat at my feet, a reassuring presence, and Mister lay stretched out before the fire, basking in its warmth.A comfortable, domestic scene.I couldn’t say I was happy — I hadn’t been truly happy for a while — but I was about as close to it as I was going to get.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Mouse sat up, instantly alert, and I put down my book to reach for my blasting rod.Although I trusted my wards, it was pushing past eleven and, in my experience,unannounced nighttime callers were generally bad news. If the big bad wolf was knocking on my door, this little piggy was going to send him running with his tail on fire.

I walked to the door, Mouse at my heels.I opened it a fraction of a slither and then — seeing who it was — flung it open in surprise.

“_Marcone?_” 

None other than Gentleman Johnny Marcone was stood on my doorstep.In sharp contrast to his usual immaculate appearance, the man was soaking.His designer suit clung wetly to his damp skin and droplets of water in his hair reflected the light._Stars and stones, how long had he been stood outside?_

He opened his mouth to speak, but I got in there first.“Hells bells, Marcone!Get in here!”I hastily ushered him in.“Try not to drip while I grab you a towel.”

It’s always easier not to think when you’re doing something.As I concentrated on finding a fresh towel, picking up some clean clothes along the way in case he wanted to change, I didn’t think about what having Marcone in my home meant.I didn’t think about the line that had just been crossed, or where exactly this might lead us.If I had, I’m not sure I would have been able to face the other man.

When I returned, he was standing just where I’d left him. 

“Here’s a towel and some clothes.”As he accepted the things from me, I tried to ignore how his wet shirt clung to his skin.“Give me your jacket — I can dry it in front of the fire.You should lay out your shoes too.”

“Thanks,” was all he said.He peeled off the soaking jacket and handed it to me.The man was more lithe than before, muscles more clearly defined: he really had lost weight.I dragged my gaze away and busied myself with the fire.Mouse watched the goings on with apparent interest, but Mister was nowhere to be seen.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Marcone had put my spare clothes to one side and was running the towel over his face and hair.The lack of careful styling made him look younger.Strange as it was, this was the closest I’d seen him to just being a normal man.

Now that I’d ensured that Marcone wasn’t going to die from hypothermia or flood the apartment, it was time for some questions.I threw myself on the sofa and looked up at him, wishing I could read him as well as he seemed to be able to read me. 

“Why are you here, John?”

He finished towelling himself down, then carefully folded it and hung it to dry beside his jacket.“Does there need to be a reason?”

“Well, yeah,” I said.“I figure there does.”

There was a long pause._Gods, did he even know why he was here?_Marcone was the last person I’d describe as impulsive, but this wasn’t like him.

I tried to keep my voice neutral.“Look, what is this?I thought you didn’t want to see me again.You made that perfectly last time when you—” I cut myself off, not wanting to open old wounds.“It’s not like I’m expecting you to say sorry or anything, but a bit of consistency would be appreciated.” 

The fire crackled, and its flickering light elongated the shadows in the room.

“I know you went to see her,” he said.

I swallowed.Looking back, I’d been a fool to think that — with all the measures he’d taken to protect Amanda — he wouldn’t have known about my visit.

There was no point in denying it. “Yeah, I did.”

He gave me a direct look.“Why?”

“I— I’m not sure,” I said honestly.“I just talked to the kid for a while, hoped it got through.”

He nodded.“I understand.”

And I knew that he did.

“You’ve lost weight,” I said, deciding to steer the conversation into less dangerous waters.“I noticed it the last time that I saw you.”

“Have I?I hadn’t realised.”And perhaps what he said next was his way of apologising to me.“Your hand, has it healed?”

That threw me.“What?”

“There was a cut on it.Did it leave a scar?”

And then I remembered.My hand in his, the whisper of his lips against my palm, the touch of his tongue...

“Oh, _that_,” I said, hoping my embarrassment didn’t show on my face.“That was nothing.I’d forgotten all about it.”

He looked at me with those eyes the colour of faded dollar bills.

“Let me see.”

Could I refuse him again?Pull away like I’d done that time in the office?No, I didn’t think I could.

I stood slowly and held my hand out to him and.Once again, he took it in his own.He surveyed my palm carefully: there was only the faintest line to show that the wound had ever been there at all — even that would disappear in a couple more weeks.Marcone traced it gently with his fingertips and my breath caught a little.His hands were so very warm against my own.

It must be lonely up there, at the pinnacle of Chicago’s criminal underworld.Who would a man like Gentleman Johnny Marcone have to talk to?

“It’s hardly an impressive scar,” I scoffed, trying to diffuse some of the tension that had formed between us.“You should see the rest of them.”

His pale green eyes glimmered.With a deliberate movement, he lifted my palm to his lips and — as he had done all that time ago — pressed a kiss there.“Would you like to show me?”

Time slowed.Transfixed, I stared at him for a moment before tearing my gaze away.The man had always been able to read me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to just then.

“What are we doing, John?” I asked him, running my free hand over my face.“What is this?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.He entwined his fingers with mine and moved closer; there were only inches separating us.

“That depends on whether you’re going to do another disappearing act or start throwing knives around,” I managed.The sensation of him pressing kisses along the line of my jaw was infinitely distracting.I pulled away for a moment, looking at him directly.“Look, is there anything here?”

In answer, he moved forward to capture my lips against his own, so very gentle.And if I tasted salt afterwards, I must have imagined it.I must have imagined it because men like Marcone never cry.

He reached up to brush a strand of hair from my forehead.“Be quiet, Dresden.”

And, for once in my life, I was.

This was different than before.This wasn’t like the explosive burst of passion in the hospital; this was slow and sensuous and gentle.We were licking each other’s wounds.

John’s lips were insistent against my own and when his hand slipped beneath my shirt, questioning, I responded by pulling it up and over my head.He skimmed his hands over the sensitive skin of my torso, leaving trails of electricity in their wake, and pulled me to him.His body was firm and insistent against me; when I felt his lips at the nape of my neck, the push of his hips against mine, I knew that I was a lost cause.

He pulled back, took me by the hand and said, “Let me take you to bed, Harry.”

We were about to cross the Rubicon, but I quite honestly couldn’t have cared less. 

Once my bedroom door had snapped shut behind us, our explorations became bolder.My hands fumbled with his shirt buttons as he pulled at my belt.When I felt him grip me directly, I gasped at the reverberations it sent shivering through me.And he flashed those white teeth of his before proceeding to undo me in a hundred different ways.

Despite the slight chill of the evening, our skin glistened with sweat and our clothes lay forgotten on the floor.Marcone seemed determined to seek out and exploit every sensitive spot I had, and my self-control was crumbling around me.His actions were teasing, tantalising to the point of torture, and I was torn between screaming at the man or succumbing to him completely.

I gasped and shuddered: John’s hands against me, his skin against mine... I watched him move down my body with feline grace, trailed kisses along the top of my thigh before he... _Before he..._I moaned and gripped at the man’s hair, wondering how I had ever thought I’d experienced pleasure before the hot, wet heat of Johnny Marcone’s mouth.

Finally, he pulled away.‘Debauched’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what I was feeling.

“If you knew how long I’ve waited, Harry,” he breathed against me.“How long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked, voice thick with desire.

He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of me spread out before him.“Looking at you now, I have no idea.” He trailed a hand lower and moved to whisper in my ear.“_Why don’t you turn over for me?_”

I wasn’t sure if he knew that I’d only been with women before, but the man was maddeningly patient with me.He took his time unlocking my body with his fingers and his tongue, drawing out every ounce of pleasure with surgical precision.It was only when I was half-crazed with desire that he finally pushed inside.Even then, he waited for me to become accustomed to the glorious strangeness of it — the delicious discomfort — before sending my senses singing with smooth thrusts that felt as though they lit a fire within me.When Marcone fucked me, it felt as though I’d been waiting for it my entire life.

The push and pull of it, the grip of his hands on my hips, the heat of him: it was all just too much.I gasped and shuddered, finding release with embarrassing speed.

Marcone laughed quietly against me.I think it was the first time I’d heard him sound genuinely happy.“Don’t think we’re done just yet, Dresden.”

And we weren’t, not by a long shot. 

Once we’d both achieved the shuddering heights of release, I lay stretched out before him — exalted and exhausted and totally spent.I was surprised when he reached out a hand to cup my face.I placed my own over it on instinct, the one with the scar that was so close to fading away.He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to: I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me.

I grinned.“What on earth did we just do?”

He raised an eyebrow at that.“You want me to summarise?Firstly, I started by—“

“Alright, alright!I get the idea.”

He traced idle patterns on the skin of my chest.“I’ve done nothing I’m ashamed to speak of: I believe I have excellent stamina.”He smiled wickedly.“You, on the other hand—”

I swatted at him, but there was no real force in it.“It’s been a while!And you can hardly blame me when you— When you did _stuff_, okay?”I finished lamely, unable to quite put it into words.

Marcone laughed and pulled me to him.We lay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms and listening to the rain pounding down outside.

Eventually, I forced myself to speak.“Look, is this a one time thing?” I asked seriously.“‘Cus if you think you can go back to pretending I don’t exist, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He snorted.“I don’t think the world would allow me to pretend you don’t exist.You cause too much damage.”

I nodded, surprised by the relief I felt from his words.“I still hate what you do, you know,” I went on.“Don’t think I’m just going to suddenly forget that you’re a scumbag criminal.”

He smiled and ran a hand through my hair.“If you’re trying to say you’re falling for me, Harry, there’s no need.I’ve known that for years.”

I stiffened for a moment, eyes widening, before relaxing back against him.“Well, yeah,” I said, “that too.”

With that, there was nothing else to say.And although the world would continue to be an imperfect place, we were — at least for a little while — perfectly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for any comments or kudos you are kind enough to leave.
> 
> AloeAloe


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